If He'd Ever Loved
by Lass of the Lake
Summary: Varric reminisces about the loves of his life.


**If He'd Ever Loved**

* * *

Varric stumbled up the stairs to his room, drunk off his ass, but strangely, not enjoying it much. Every once and a while, alcohol had a strange effect on him. Instead of being a catalyst for fun and raucous behavior, it made him pensive and nostalgic and he wasn't fond of the feeling. And now, he was even somewhat sad as he fell into a soft, upholstered chair in his room. It wasn't hard to figure out why, certainly. Lana had announced she was pregnant and watching Cullen embrace the beautiful elf from behind as she placed her remaining hand over her yet flat stomach, both of them glowing with the happiness expectant parenthood brings, had taken the wind right out of his sails. And then he'd drunk overmuch, trying to compensate for the effect the announcement had on him.

Varric felt that he'd never have that happy glow, and it made him sadder than he'd ever care to admit. And the fact that Lana was being swept ever further from him, never to be his, held its own special kind of sting. Oh, he'd long known that she was out of his reach - she'd never even been his for a second - but every new milestone still stung. From the small things, like not being the one to dance with her at the Winter Palace all the way up to this newest blow, it hurt.

It was also new for him, weirdly. Despite Lana being his third love, she was the only one who truly, effortlessly and tirelessly, eluded him. The only one who took every step of life, truly beyond his reach.

Varric slumped in his chair, deciding that fighting the trip down memory lane was pointless. For if he'd ever loved, he'd loved three women, and he loved them all still.

Bianca was first. If you asked him while he was sober, it was Bianca this and Bianca that. He'd even named his beloved crossbow for her, and, in truth, he'd used his affections for Bianca as a mask as much as anything. For so many years, it had been Bianca. He thought it always would be, especially after his failure to get over her, even once she was married. He'd almost started a bloody clan war over her, for Andraste's sake. He'd thought that was it - she would be the great love of his life and he'd never love another. He was wrong. Oh so bloody wrong.

Bianca was brilliant. It was part of what Varric loved about her. But she was also a liar, a sneak and had little issue with advancing herself at the detriment of others. Her workshop in Val Royeaux hadn't been obtained by coincidence, after all. In some ways, she was cold and icy, illustrated by her dishonesty over the thaig that held the red lyrium several years prior. She'd put several lives in danger - thousands, even - by disclosing the thaig's location, all for the sake of sating her own curiosity, and while, yes, she had ended up being part of securing the smuggling location and limiting Corypheus' power, it was hard to forgive her callousness. He had, for the most part, come around and forgiven her, but he'd never trust her in the same way.

He always thought she'd had a limit but her disregard for him and her deceit had showed him that if she did possess a limit, it didn't apply to him.

He'd seen her since her betrayal and traded countless letters, but the relationship was irrevocably altered. The letters no longer held anything personal, and if they did, they went unanswered by him. And the meetings were business only, almost clinical. He never stole moments alone with her anymore, as he had in the past. Though her family still sent assassins after their every meeting, there was hardly a reason to. Varric loved Bianca, yes, but he couldn't allow her to use him as she had in the past any longer. It was long past time to let her go, even if his heart was not prepared. Long, long past. His love for Bianca had already sabotaged him more times than he could count, not the least of which was the driving away of his second love.

At the time, Varric believed himself incapable of love for anyone aside from his brother and Bianca and so after her marriage, Varric spent many years adrift. He felt little interest in others unless they had a deal for him and he passed his days, helping his brother with merchant guild duties and devoting himself to writing. The women of Kirkwall were either thin and weak or strong and brutish. The city of chains didn't allow for much else. Varric supposed it was fitting, then, that his next love had not come from Kirkwall at all.

Avexis Hawke, known as Ava to her friends and Vex to him. She was amazing. Vex was strong with the emotional fortitude of a blasted paragon, but she also had a soft side, buried not far beneath and easily accessed. Beautiful, but not vain. A strong moral code that she obeyed above all else, including the law and common sense.

Varric was constantly surprised by Hawke, in both pleasant and very unpleasant ways. When he'd met her, she'd been a mercenary and he hadn't expected much out of her besides joining the expedition. But she went out of her way to help others and collected their merry little band, all of them as loyal to her as they were to anything. Varric himself would have knelt to her before he knelt to Meredith or the Viscount. But, she also fought dragons and blasted headlong into danger. If she hadn't been the best mage he'd ever seen, Varric was sure he'd have worried himself into an early grave over her.

After a year at her side, he could admit to himself that he loved her, but in all honesty, he'd been enamored with her within a week. It scared him. It made him feel like a traitor to his beloved Bianca, though she'd been married near a decade at that point and he hadn't seen her more than a handful of times in the last five years.

What was perhaps even scarier to the dwarf was that, for a time, she'd felt the same.

Maybe two years after the discovery of the primeval thaig, her brother being taken by the wardens, the red lyrium and Bartrand's betrayal, Hawke had reclaimed the Amell estate for herself and her mother. However, this being the days before she was the Champion and her title served as a deterrent for opportunistic thieves or stupid templars, she tried to avoid being out at night alone. As such, whenever their celebrations at the hangman ran too late, she'd stay with Varric. Since he was a gentleman, he'd let her take the bed and he'd sleep on his chaise... or in his chair. Really, wherever he dropped. It was on one of these such occasions that something had gone quite awry.

They were in the Hangman, playing wicked grace. They'd had a great victory, taking down a band of Tal Vashoth, and Varric had lost to Hawke in a game of who could make more kills and so he was buying her drinks. Isabela was sidled up to Fenris, and Varric didn't even want to know what the lascivious pirate had whispered in the elf's ear in order to garner that kind of smile. Merrill kept giving away her own bluffs with giggles and Aveline had already gone home for the evening. Anders sat across from Varric, glowering at the dwarf.

It wasn't hard to figure out why the healer was in a bad mood. Hawke was rather touchy-feely when she became besotted, as she had this eve, and she was currently nuzzling her face into Varric's arm, since she liked the feel of the cool leather against her slightly flushed face. Varric couldn't claim that he wasn't enjoying her proximity, either, though he didn't appreciate the daggers being glared into him.

Isabela laid down her hand, smugly declaring, "Beat that!" but quickly cursed when Hawke laid down her own cards with a giggle and did just that. "Bitch," Isabela mumbled with a pout, leaning onto the white haired man at her side.

"Learn to cheat better, lovely Bela," Hawke sang as she drug her winnings towards herself with a sweep of her arm.

"You saw her cheating? Why not call her on it?" Merrill asked, still not understanding that cheating was pretty integral to Wicked Grace.

Anders sighed, pushing his own cards into the center to be collected by Varric. "Because she knew she was going to win anyway, as she always does. I don't even know why I bother to play. Either you, Varric or Isabela always win."

Varric shrugged, shuffling the cards. "Learn to lie better," Varric advised, unrepentant.

They played a few more rounds. Avexis drank more and got ever cozier with him, even laying a sloppy kiss on his cheek after she beat out Isabela again, giggling all the while, and as she became sillier and more flirty with Varric, Anders' glower darkened further. Varric was relieved when she tapped out of the round and slumped against him with a tired yawn. "I'm sleepy," she said in a small voice, reminding Varric that despite her bad ass status, she was still only twenty two. "Mind if I stay with you tonight?" she asked, looking up at Varric through the fringe of her dark hair.

"Of course, Vex. You're always welcome to stay with me," he said with a chuckle. She smiled gratefully and he helped her up to her feet.

"I could walk you home if you want, Ava," Anders offered quickly, standing to steady her as she wobbled on her feet.

Avexis waved him off, prying the hand he'd used to steady her from his grasp and beginning to head towards the stairs. "Nah," she called dismissively. "His bed's closer." She started up the stairs, tripping at first and giggling as she caught herself on the railing, and then disappearing up the stairs altogether.

Anders looked at Varric with dark, furious eyes, and Varric was actually worried her was going to have to draw a knife since Bianca was already upstairs for the evening. But, to his relief, Anders didn't make a move. Instead, he gave a bit of a snarl and stormed out of the tavern. The others, apparently unperturbed by Anders' anger, slowly filtered out, Isabela and Fenris curiously leaving together and Merrill slipping away towards her home in the alienage. Varric settled the tab and headed up to his quarters.

When Varric opened the door, he was struck dumb by the sight before him. There, standing in the center of his room, was Avexis, naked as the day she was born. There was not one stitch of cloth on her pale skin which was scarred in some places from their numerous battles. She was curvier than Varric would have thought, her armor having hid part of the generous slope of breasts and hips from her slender waist. He was mesmerized by the sight of her body. It was one worthy of long and thorough worship, in Varric's opinion, and he wanted to put the time in to give her the attention she deserved.

But he couldn't.

After what seemed like an eternity to Varric, he dragged his eyes from her beautiful form and averted them, looking at the floor. It was safer that way. "Uh, Vex, I think you're missing something."

Avexis made a noise like a scoff. "Yeah, Varric, I'm aware," she said, the 'duh,' present in her tone and probably only barely being kept from being said aloud. The silence stretched between them, Avexis apparently waiting for a response and Varric fighting to memorize the grain on the wood in front of her feet so that he didn't memorize every curve, freckle and scar like he desperately wanted to. He couldn't. He just... couldn't. Avexis was not a paragon of patience, however, and she tired of waiting. She approached him, a catlike slink that drew his attention. Soon, she was too close to see the floor anymore, so he focused on her naval, figuring it was the safest place to look, but she grabbed his chin and wrenched his face up so that he had little choice but to look her in the eye. "Varric," she said, her voice heavy with something he'd never heard from her before. "I want you. I am offering myself to you." Her eyes searched his, blue-green meeting gold brown. "Do you want me?"

Every inch of Varric wanted to scream yes, to yank his own clothes off and pleasure her until the dawn, but he still couldn't. He still couldn't put aside the little voice that said he'd be betraying Bianca and he'd done enough of that. So he closed his eyes, knowing that he couldn't look her in the eye as he broke both of their hearts with one word; "No."

Avexis' hand fell from where she'd gripped his chin and he missed it instantly. "Oh," she said, the surprise and hurt in her voice like a knife in Varric's chest. He heard her back up and he opened his eyes to see her pulling on trousers and throw on her coat, holding it together with one hand and gathering her things with the other, not even stopping long enough to put on her shoes.

Hawke was out the door before he could find his voice to stop her.

Remembering that night was like tearing open an old wound and it stung anew. He hadn't seen Hawke for nigh on three weeks after that night. He even stopped by her house to see if she was okay, but Bodahn said she was out on business, having been called for a meeting by the Viscount. Isabela had reported that she'd been on nonstop missions since they'd been at the Hangman and it hurt immensely to hear it. Before that night, Hawke barely ever went anywhere without her trusty dwarf at her side. Eventually, she had shown back up, but never acknowledged anything had happened between them. Things went on as they had before, though Varric always hoped to see some of the desire in her that he'd seen that night. He never did. Avexis kept a very careful distance between them.

In the time they had together, Varric only grew to love her more and she drove him mad, simultaneously. He had to watch her fight dragons, malificarum and the crazy mage had even challenged the bleeding Arishock in one on one combat. She'd won, thank the maker, but he'd nearly had a stroke over that one. He'd been there for her when she lost her mother. And in that time, he came to accept that loving her was not the same as betraying Bianca, but he could never bring himself to actually broach the topic.

When the circle fell and Anders... lost his mind, for lack of a better term, and she was driven from the city, he'd kept in contact with her. He planned to join her one day, once things were settled in the city and she was no longer being hunted, but then Cassandra had kidnapped him and he'd been caught up in the Inquisition before he knew it.

And that was when he met Lana.

Lana was unlike either Bianca or Avexis. With her white hair, silver eyes and white tattoos stark against her deeply tanned skin, she looked ethereal, almost like a goddess. Andraste's tits, the way she'd shown up on that mountainside, hand glowing green and just closed the rift with little more than a wave of her hand, he hadn't been sure she wasn't an old elven goddess. Ironic, considering there had been an elven god there that day, but it had been the man he hadn't spared a second glance for.

She was a conqueror, through and through. When she crawled out of the ashes of the conclave, they'd been awed by her, but when she did it again, miraculously surviving Haven, many believed she was ordained by the maker or Andraste herself. Lana ruled over Skyhold and took to her role as Inquisitor like a duck to water. Each subsequent victory only increased his admiration for her, but the same could be said of the entirety of Thedas.

Lana was forever out of reach. They weren't even particularly good friends, as her favorite travel companions were Dorian and Iron Bull. That, combined with the fact that she and the commander of the Inquisition's forces were smitten with each other almost from the moment they met, meant that Varric hadn't had a shot in either heaven or hell. Even so, he admired her from afar. Whenever he'd called Hawke to Skyhold, his heart had been torn right down the center. The woman he'd missed his chance with and the woman he'd never had a chance with, together, deciding the fate of the world.

He'd spent years of his life in her service as well, but it was probably time to go. He needed to go back to Kirkwall, attend to the merchant's guild and get back to writing. Those were his passions, his loves.

Varric sighed, aware of the wetness at the corners of his eyes and hating it with every fiber of his being. Lana was going to be a mother soon, it might be years before he had a reason to see Bianca again and Hawke was off who knew where. If he'd ever loved, he'd lost them all.

A knock sounded at his door and he heaved himself out of his chair, quickly wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his coat. He wasn't about to let anyone see him wallowing in self pity. Varric crossed the room, barely catching himself as he tripped over his own boots, and swung the door open, stunned nearly to sobriety to see Avexis on the other side of the door. It had been nearly a decade since that night, but he recognized the look in her eyes, even before she dropped the thin robe and it pooled around her feet. Ten years had changed a lot. She had new scars, her skin wasn't quite as taut nor was she as muscular, but she was still beyond gorgeous. "Let's try this again," she said, voice heady with lust.

Varric embraced her and pulled her down for a kiss before she could say anything further, pulling her into the room and kicking the door shut behind them. If he'd ever loved, he loved them all still, but he was choosing her and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to make up for every year they lost.


End file.
